Novel & Cerita Fantasy Of Grimgar And Ash

"Yes. Most people are a yucky shade of gray." "Ransom and Asher have magic." Atlas made it a statement. "They had color in their landscapes, so yes." Asher, Atlas, Saint, and Xander looked like they'd been slapped in the face. We sat in silence for long minutes. Ransom cleared his throat, pulling everyone's attention. "Kiema." I looked at him. "You wanted to share something about your magic?"

Lucian: The forest reeks of rot tonight. It’s thick in the air—sour, metallic, crawling into my lungs like decay itself has fingers. My mouth is full of blood, but it’s not mine. It never is. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve killed. The creatures come in waves, drawn to the dying wards of Ashwyck like maggots to meat. Things born of shadow and blight. Their eyes glow like coals, their voices a rasping hunger that speaks my name in tongues older than sin.

SERAPHINA’S POV ‘Wire and Ash’ The blinding spotlight sliced through the ocean mist, turning the pitch-black deck into a stark, blinding stage. The high caliber line slammed into the glass railing above my head with a deafening CRACK, showering my hair and shoulders with heavy shards of reinforced glass. I ducked, pressing my back against the vibrating hull, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. Heavy boots pounded across the upper deck. Shouted orders, sharp and panicked, cut through the roar of the dark waves.

He spits the blue eyeball out of his mouth. “Kneel!” Asher growls, holding up Grizz’s tattered and beaten body. Darius and Brickland’s wolves stand over Foster’s dead body, licking the blood off the jowls. Asher stands over Grizz, letting the claws from his free hand extend. In a swift swiping motion, the front of Grizz’s throat is now held in Asher’s hand. Asher then shoves Grizz’s dead body away, as if touching Grizz burns his skin.

The sky darkens as if ash had found it too. Below, his laughter climbs—ruptured, furious, exultant. The pulse hammers through it, reminding even him: freedom is not a rule. --- POV: Ashmouth The world shakes. Chains lie in glowing shards, sinking into ash. My body is ruin—torn, bleeding, luminous. My laughter is ragged but alive. I lift my head. Shadows climb with me. Skulls orbit. Solara quakes; bells toll without hands. I grin through blood and ash.

_____________ "I'm Gremory, the oldest vampire alive in this town and all I want, is blood….I need to survive” Gremory spat, almost choking because of Asher's grip on his neck. "So? Aren't you aware of the law that separates werewolves from vampires and witchcraft?” Asher asked, exuding a powerful aura that seemed to weaken Gremory. "I just need to survive,” Gremory responded, his eyes slowly shutting as he struggled to catch his breath. Asher chuckled dryly before flinging him, causing Gremory to crash into a wooden table. "Why did you mention Manga?” Annatoria interrogated the prey that was struggling to survive.

But she wasn’t exactly sure how. It started small. Flickering lights when she was angry. A crack spidering across the kitchen window when her mom screamed at her for not moving on already. Then there was the dream. It felt real. Too real. She was standing in a forest of ash trees. Everything was grey; the sky, ground, even the wind. Then she looked down and saw something glow on her skin. A mark. Twisting vines circling her arm, pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own.

Percy chuckled, killing two more wolves as he charged at Asher. Asher focused his energy, his claws half-shifted. This time, he wasn’t aiming for Percy’s body. Instead, he extended his hands, concentrating on the dark magic that surrounded Percy, the very core of his existence. As his claws flickered with fire, he slammed his hands down toward the ground. A burst of flame erupted, but it wasn’t aimed at Percy’s body. It shot directly at the core of the dark magic that kept Percy alive. Percy’s eyes widened in panic, but it was too late. Asher’s flames hit the very essence of the dark magic that formed Percy, and the magic itself began to disintegrate.

He found Theron. He sat on the edge of the tower. The morning sun washed over him. His body turned to shimmering, golden dust. "Theron!" Elias ran to him, but it was too late. "Take care of the clan, Elias," Theron's voice was a soft whisper. "I'm going to her." The golden dust danced in the breeze and vanished into the sky. With tears in his eyes, Elias collected Theron's ashes. He placed our urns together, reuniting us at last.

just like your mother warned. "Livia!" Asher’s voice suddenly sounded muffled, as if he were shouting from under water. I blinked, and the foggy forest around me dissolved into dark grey stone. The cold forest air vanished, replaced by the suffocating heat of a burning room. I wasn't on my mare anymore; I was kneeling in the center of a ruined stone hall covered in ash. A few feet away stood Asher. But his eyes weren't warm gold—they were black as pitch, smoking with dark Primordial magic. He held a dripping broadsword in his hand, and at his feet lay my father, motionless in a pool of blood.